May 25, 2024

Woke grumpy. The air heavy and gray. I was having an interesting dream, though, in which Ellen and I led an organization that would allow women some freedom or advantage that I can’t remember now. We were dividing up the country into areas of responsibility, and I chose Florida for Ellen, contemplating just before waking whether she’d like that or hate that. 

C the window washer calls periodically to ask if he can pick up a charger and a speaker which some apparatus tells him he left here a month ago. I assure him he did not (at least I haven’t seen them) but invite him to come anyway. He never does. “Oh. . . the traffic was so bad. . . sorry, can we try for Saturday? . . .I had my kid with me and he’s such a handful . . . .” I work not to sink into rage. His mother is the one who sets the time for housecleaning and has to call every time to ask to reschedule or come late. Family trait or red-neck tell? In any case, one of the human failings of which I am least tolerant. Make a date. Keep it. 

Fasciatus enduring, adjusting location, refining discomfort. Can’t wait to run through airports with this. 

Conversation I’d love to hear ONCE during rehearsal:

Director: “You’re behind the beat!”

Singers: “That’s because you’re rushing.”

Director: “Oh, I guess I am.” 

Note: C arrived. The objects he sought were not here.

Extended planning, reassessment, creation of redundant systems have exhausted me in terms of my journey tomorrow. Gigantic layovers may turn out to be restful.